


Separate Out the Blacks

by GwendolynGrace



Series: Blackstory [9]
Category: Alternity - A Harry Potter Alternate Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter Alternity - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Blackstory, Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, Gen, HP Alternity, RPG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is Sorted into Gryffindor--and that is kind of a problem for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separate Out the Blacks

**Author's Note:**

> Written 2008-2010. This is one of the series of "Blackstory" - backstory about the Blacks - that I wrote while playing in the RPG, HP Alternity. The actions taken in this work were approved by the players when first written. Also, since the events predate the point of divergence, it can be considered canon compliant.

September 1, 1970

Sirius was glad that there were only a couple students ahead of him. Still, he tapped his wand against his leg nervously while the other two went up to the stool and tried on the tatty old hat. Here was the moment he’d waited for all his young life.

‘Sirius Black.’ Professor McGonagall’s mouth pinched when she called him.

He eyed the Slytherin table, where his cousin sat. She watched with an expression of boredom, but he smiled at her anyway as he walked up and took the seat. He lowered the hat onto his head.

‘Merlin,’ he heard the hat say. ‘This is curious.’

‘What’s curious?’ Sirius thought. ‘I’m a Black, aren’t I?’

‘That you are, that you are,’ said the hat in his mind. ‘And yet…you’re a brave fellow.’

‘So?’ Sirius said. ‘I’m brave. S’wrong with that? Why shouldn’t I be brave?’

‘Oh, you should, you should,’ the hat said. ‘Well, this is interesting. Very well: GRYFFINDOR!’

Sirius had half started toward the Slytherin table when he saw Narcissa’s frown and checked himself. Then it registered that no one at the table was cheering. On the other side of the Great Hall, however, the long table had erupted in applause. He stood there, Sorting Hat in his hand, staring at the Gryffindor table in disbelief. The applause trailed off as they realised he wasn’t moving to join them.

‘Mr Black, take your place with the Gryffindors,’ Professor McGonagall told him.

‘But—’

‘If you please. There are others waiting to be Sorted,’ she told him primly.

Sirius forced himself to the leave the dais and walk to the table where she had pointed. He sat, still numb, trying to think how he had managed to fail before he even started. He’d admitted to bravery, but was that the only reason the Hat had put him in Gryffindor?

He barely noticed when the shy brown-haired boy from the train was sorted into Gryffindor, or when the chubby blond named Peter joined their table as well. He looked up at the name ‘Potter’ because he’d heard his father talk about the Potters and their notoriously soft positions on wizarding values. Sure enough, it was the black-haired boy he’d talked to on the train a little, the one he’d sort of liked, if he had to admit it. Even if the boy had got a bit shirty when Sirius had so confidently said he’d be a Slytherin. To make matters worse, the weird greaseball of a kid, whom he had disliked instantly, _was_ Sorted into Slytherin.

‘No accounting for standards,’ he said to no one in particular.

‘Well, I’m glad. This way you don’t have to be his roommate,’ Potter said with an apologetic smile.

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Sirius said. ‘It’s got to be a mistake. I’m sure my parents will fix it in the morning.’

‘Fix what?’ said an older boy at the table. ‘Longbottom, by the way: Frank Longbottom. Summat need fixing?’

‘My life,’ Sirius said darkly.

‘Come along, it’s not that bad. You’ve landed in the best House, after all.’

Sirius didn’t trust himself to say anything. Longbottom passed him a serving dish of bangers and mash.

‘Best tuck in, there, lad,’ he said.

Sirius picked at the food. His stomach was in knots and he felt if he put anything inside it, it would churn itself right up again.

He allowed himself to be swept up by the others and led to one of the towers. They stopped before a portrait of a fat witch in an acutely pink frock. Longbottom (who turned out to be the Head Boy) and another Prefect told them the password, though he didn’t pay attention and couldn’t have told anyone what it was if asked, and the portrait swung open to allow them all entry.

In spite of his despondence, Sirius had to admit that the Gryffindor common room was mad cool. The fire crackled merrily to one side; a couple comfortable-looking sofas and chairs were arranged nearby, and tables for revising were scattered around the rest of the room. Two doors were opened onto spiraling stairwells; the Prefects were explaining that these led to their dormitories. Rather than talk to anyone, Sirius drifted up the stairs.

The first-years’ dorm was three floors up. It reminded him of the tower room he’d been given when he visited his father’s parents, except that it had four twin four-posters, each hung with rich red curtains and each with a bedside table. His own trunk stood at the foot of one of the beds. He sank onto the coverlet. What ought he to do?

He ought to owl his parents immediately. Surely his father could talk to the Headmaster and explain the mistake? They’d reassign him to Slytherin and even if it meant rooming with the oddball Snape, at least he’d be in the right House.

On the other hand, how could he write? How could he explain in a way that didn’t make it his fault?

Still, it ought to come from him.

He tapped his wand on his trunk to open it. His writing case was near the top; he pulled it out, opened the lid and retrieved a quill, an inkpot, and a fresh sheet of the Black family stationers’ parchment.

        _Dear Mother and Father,_

       _I’ve arrived at Hogwarts safely. Only something’s already gone wrong. I don’t know exactly how, but when we were Sorted--_

He set the quill aside. They’d blame him, no matter what he had to say about it. 

      _\--I think they tricked us. There was this old hat and we had to put it on and it said I was brave. (I know that sounds mad, Mother, but it really did speak, only in my head, not out loud.) I asked what was wrong with that and the hat said nothing, but then it shouted “Gryffindor” and I don’t know how but I didn’t get a chance to say anything after that. And one of the Professors made me sit with the Gryffindors and now my trunk is up here and it’s all gone wrong._

        _I didn’t do anything to make the hat put me here, but I don’t know how to explain that I’m not supposed to be in Gryffindor. I tried to fix it right there, but she just made me go and sit because there were so many others who needed Sorting._

      _But now I don’t think anyone will listen if I tell them it’s a mistake. What should I do?_

He longed to ask them to intercede, but knew even before he began to write it that they would see they had to do something. He reread his letter. As he did, the realization dawned on him that he could not possibly send it. 

Mother would think him a wretched coward for whinging to them for help on his very first day. Father would tell him he had to manage it himself, since now that he was at school he had to rely on his own wits and judgement. They would both be terribly disappointed that on top of getting himself Sorted incorrectly, he couldn’t even deal with the problem alone. They’d made such a fuss over him at the station – that he was growing up and he was going off to school – and to run behind their robes at the first sign of difficulty was to admit that he was still as much a baby as Regulus, or worse. 

It was bad enough he’d let them down in the very first test of his worth as a wizard. He wasn’t about to embarrass them in the manner in which he addressed the challenge. 

He crumpled the parchment. 

What he really ought to do was find a Prefect to take him up to the Headmaster. If Father had been here, he’d have gone to the Headmaster, so that was what Sirius had to do. There was that Head Boy bloke, Longbottom. Perhaps he could ask him for an escort. 

But before he could put away his writing case, three boys came clattering into the room. Well, two boys; the third trailed behind them a little, diffident, but looking very pleased to be able to watch the others enjoy themselves. 

‘This is fantastic!’ the pudgy blond boy said. 

The black-haired boy – Potter, he remembered – pulled up short when he saw Sirius, writing case still in his hands. ‘Settling in already?’ he asked. ‘It’s…Black, isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes,’ Sirius said with a nod. ‘It’s Black. But I’m not settling in. I’ll be moving soon.’ 

‘What? Why?’ the blond boy asked. 

‘Because I’m a Black and that ruddy hat made a mistake,’ Sirius said. ‘I can’t be a Gryffindor; we’re all Slytherins. All of us. As soon as I see the Headmaster it’ll be straightened out, though.’ 

Potter’s eyebrows rose. ‘You want to see the Headmaster on our very first night?’ 

‘Well, yes,’ Sirius answered. He set down his writing case and smoothed his robes, wanting to look and sound more confident than he felt. ‘I’m sure my parents will want to talk to him when they find out, but I thought I could speak with him first. Explain why I have to be in Slytherin.’ 

‘I thought Slytherins were all dark wizards,’ the blond said. ‘That’s what my brother told me, anyway.’ 

‘The Hat put you here,’ the brown-haired boy commented mildly. ‘It must have had its reasons. I think the Headmaster would tell you the same.’ 

There was a moment’s silence as all three others turned to look at him. He had barely raised his voice, but something about the way he spoke had an authority and wisdom beyond his years. 

‘Know him, do you?’ Sirius said sullenly. He had a horrible feeling that the other boy was right, and Dumbledore would tell him that the hat’s decision, unfathomable as it was, would be final. 

‘I’ve met him,’ the boy said, still very calm, although he looked uncomfortable to be the focus of the others. ‘Anyway, my parents warned me that Sorting might surprise some of us. I thought I’d be a Ravenclaw,’ he continued. 

‘I was sure I’d be Hufflepuff,’ the blond said cheerfully. ‘Would have been dead embarrassing, that, but Slytherin? Why would anyone want to go there?’ 

‘Yeah, did you see that weird-looking kid with the greasy hair?’ Potter offered, jumping in now that the chubby fellow had lightened the mood again. 

‘We met him on the train, didn’t we, Lupin?’ the blond asked their fourth roommate. 

Lupin nodded. ‘He seemed happy, though,’ he observed. 

‘Well, of course he’s happy,’ Sirius said. ‘Don’t you lot get it? My whole family are in that House.’ 

Potter shrugged. ‘Well…they’ll…get over it,’ he said simply. ‘They’ll have to, won’t they? And so have you.’ He walked over determinedly, and put out his hand. ‘Hallo. Call me James.’ 

Sirius shook somewhat moodily. ‘Sirius.’ 

‘This is Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin,’ James went on, indicating the blond and the brown-haired boy. Sirius made no move to shake hands, though. 

‘I suppose there’s nothing to do about it tonight,’ he said, still sulking, but he opened his trunk and grabbed the toiletry kit Kreacher had packed under his pyjamas. ‘Don’t get used to it, though. There’ll only be three of you come tomorrow.’ 

He pushed past James and out the door to the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, James found him by the sinks. ‘What’s your problem, mate?’ he asked. 

‘First, I’m not your mate, and second, if you think I’m spending the next seven years with you lot, you’re mad,’ Sirius said. ‘That Lupin chap is no pureblood. And I know all about your father, so don’t tell me Gryffindor’s where I belong.’ 

‘You’d rather be with that Snape weirdo? He’s no pureblood.’ 

Sirius scowled. ‘He’s a slimy pillock, yeah. But at least he’s in the right House.’ 

‘Well, maybe you are, too.’ James ran a hand through his hair, though if he’d meant to smooth it down, he failed miserably. ‘Look, Sirius, it’s not the end of the world, is it?’ 

'You don’t know my parents,’ Sirius said darkly. 

‘Yeah, I do. You know all about my dad? Well, I know all about yours. Maybe you’re here to figure out that being a wizard means more than being a first-class bigot.’ 

Sirius didn’t think. He just pulled out his wand and hexed with all his might. 

~*~ 

By the end of half an hour, Remus and Peter, six other students of varying years, two Prefects, Frank Longbottom the Head Boy, and Professor McGonagall had all arrived on the scene. She moved them down to the common room, which was empty, now that she had shooed everyone else back upstairs. 

‘What did you think you were doing?’ Professor McGonagall demanded. Her hair was hastily done back up and she wore a tartan dressing-gown over a green nightdress. 

Sirius and James both started speaking at the same time. 

‘He insulted my father—’ 

‘He thinks he’s too good for Gryffindor—’ 

‘One at a time!’ Professor McGonagall said brusquely, holding up her hand. ‘Now, Mr Potter, am I to understand that you said something about Mr Black’s father that angered him?’ 

James reddened. ‘I didn’t exactly—’ 

‘Well, what, exactly, did you say, then, Mr Potter?’ 

‘I said that maybe Sirius is here, in Gryffindor, I mean, to figure out there’s more to being a wizard than …’ he swallowed, ‘than being a bigot.’ 

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared and her eyes widened a touch, but she merely nodded once, crisply. ‘And you, Mr Black, are somehow under the impression that the Sorting Hat has made an error in putting you in Gryffindor?’ 

‘Yes, it’s a mistake. It has to be,’ Sirius said plaintively. Feeling his voice quaver, he tamped down on the emotions threatening to bubble over. He couldn’t allow a further display of weakness in front of even this sort of authority. He had to stay collected and keep his arguments reasoned, the way Father would want. ‘You see, Professor, my whole family—’ 

‘I’m quite aware of your family’s history and associations, Mr Black,’ Professor McGonagall told him, her mouth pinched. ‘What I want to know is why you are so certain that the Hat could have failed to Sort you correctly, when it has never before made a similar “mistake.”’ 

Sirius looked at James before answering. ‘Well, for one thing, my parents will be furious,’ he said. Her eyes narrowed. ‘And for another,’ he went on hastily, ‘I can’t be expected to…to live with…well, with lesser stock, Professor. It’s ludicrous. I’m a Slytherin like all the Blacks.’ He wished he could explain more eloquently, but it was late and he was very tired and to be honest he had already faced more disappointment and adversity on his first day than he’d expected to find his whole first year. And it wasn’t even morning. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his frustration (not to mention his tears) at bay. 

Professor McGonagall nodded at him. ‘I understand that you believe there has been a mistake,’ she said, ‘but to change the decision of the Hat now is out of the question. Your timetables have already been drawn up; you have already been entered into the roster as a Gryffindor; I think you’ll find that your robes and other items have already been marked as a Gryffindor’s as well. The Hat’s choices are final.’ She stood up. ‘And in my experience, Mr Black, those choices are never wrong, either. Though sometimes it takes a while before we comprehend them.’ Somehow she sounded both amused and exasperated, but at the same time sympathetic. Then she drew another breath and was all business once more. 

‘Now, I will leave aside the altercation between you and Mr Potter, for the time being. We shall call it an unfortunate misunderstanding and I hope you both will try again to start on a better note tomorrow. If I hear of any further disturbances, however, I shall assign each of you a detention. Is that understood?’ 

‘Yes, Professor,’ they both muttered. 

‘Good. Well, goodnight then, gentlemen.’ She left the common room. 

Sirius looked at James, who blinked back at him. James spoke first. ‘Looks like we’re going to have to get on somehow,’ he said. ‘Listen, I’m sorry I made that crack. ’Bout your dad.’ 

Sirius accepted the apology with a grudging nod and a little shrug of the shoulders. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he said. 

James smiled. ‘At least up here you don’t have to share with that Snape chap,’ he offered by way of making the best of it. 

‘Well, that would have been a drawback,’ Sirius admitted. He jerked his head in the direction of the boys’ stairwell. ‘So, Pettigrew?’ 

‘Yeah, he’s actually very funny if you let him get started.’ 

‘But I’ve heard the name, anyway: Pettigrew. Have you…talked to Lupin at all?’ 

‘Sort of. I tried during supper, anyway. He’s a bit shy, I think. But he seems all right.’ 

‘For a half-blood,’ Sirius clarified. 

‘Look, don’t start that again or we’ll have McGonagall back in here and it’s detention for us both. And how would that look your first night at school?’ 

‘They’d probably be prouder of that than you think,’ he said, a wry grin breaking into his mood, despite his determination to remain dismal. 

‘Well, if they’re not the sort who mind a detention or two, we could have a lot of fun. My dad told me there are about a hundred secret rooms and passages and stuff here. We could—’ he yawned, but kept talking—‘find them all, I bet, if we tried.’ 

‘Course we could,’ Sirius said. ‘Probably before Christmas.’ 

He found himself listening as James talked. They sat on the sofa and traded stories, things their parents had told them about Hogwarts and things they intended to do. He had thought that being Sorted into Gryffindor spelled the tragic end of his education, before it even began. He had been sure that he could never smile, never feel at home in any House other than Slytherin. He had promised himself he would hold himself to the standards his parents would wish, and that he ought to be ashamed of what had happened. Unfortunately, he couldn’t maintain his resolve in the face of James’ cheerfulness, his grandiose plans and his undeniable charisma. He _liked_ James. 

Sometime in the night, they fell asleep where they had curled themselves on the sofa. When Frank Longbottom found them, several hours later, he chivvied them up to their dormitory and shook his head to see that the two boys he’d had to pull off each other earlier, now seemed thick as thieves. 

‘It’s going to be a long year,’ he thought to himself. 


End file.
